


Chase the Thrill

by languageismymistress



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Rival Mobs, Barry is a thief, M/M, The Rogues are a mob family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/languageismymistress/pseuds/languageismymistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry was just using the break in to get the art, Len had other ideas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chase the Thrill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragdragdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/gifts).



Barry loved the chase. The thrill of the moves. Not just of stealing art. That came natural to him. But the knowing of them. Outsmarting them. It was a high he had never felt before. The Santini mob were all about security. He knew that the Rogues were planning to hit them tonight. Barry decided to take advantage of this. The Rogues. They had offered a spot for Barry. Multiple of times. Barry declining each one. He preferred to work alone. He knew how he worked. No worries about others. He liked it this way. Plus. He thought if he joined there would be no way of being able to bang the boss. That was something Barry was ever much interested in. Len’s demeanour. His smirk. The way he looked at Barry like Barry looked at art. It sent shivers down his spine. His hand was good but imagining Lens, Barry hadn’t come so hard in his life. The last meeting he had with Len. Both men were close. Both feeling the tension. That want. Passion. Need. Barry wanted to taste, feel, touch him. To become undone by him. He was getting hard thinking about it. Not convenient for the position he was in right now. One leg on the floor. The other resting out of the window. He waited til he heard the word. The voice. Len’s voice was hard. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Barry got a shiver just listening to him. 

 

“Cut,” He heard Hartley whisper. He had meet Hartley twice. Each time he would flirt, Barry would ignore and they would go their separate ways. 

 

Good. Time to move. Barry slipped into the room. His back was to the wall. He knew the plans of the house. Had them memorised in his head. He focused on listening to his surroundings. There were two voices downstairs, Lisa and Mick by the sound echoing up. One of his. Len’s. He had to be wary. Make sure he went undetected. He was just here for a painting. One that Iris wanted. She had remembered seeing it when she was scoping out the place. In the house under false pretences. Pretending to write an article. It was how they worked. It was sufficient. Effective. He kept to the shadow. His breathing on silent. He was close to the room. He just needed two more steps and.

 

“Scarlet,” He felt Lens breath on his neck.

 

“Cold,” Fuck. Barry was shivering again.

 

“These run ins of ours are getting old,” Len’s hand was on his waist. Pulling him into a small closet. Away from any other Rogues. Away from the painting.

 

“Well, I saw an opportunity and took it,” Barry smirked. The light from the moon casted over Lens face. Highlighting the mans features.

 

“Hmmm, and what opportunity was that?” Lens hands didn’t leave his body. One was dragging his fingers over his waist. The other resting on the table behind Barry.

 

“The one to steal, what others are there?” Barry looked into Lens eyes. Barely seeing the blue that was often there. 

 

“I can think of one,” Len slipped between Barrys legs. Barry’s breath hitched.

 

“Like what?” He kept his voice innocent. Level. Calm.

 

“This,” Len slammed their lips together. Barry moaning at the touch. He had been wanting this for so long. By the feel of the hardness grinding against his. Len wanted this too. 

 

His hands clutched at the jacket Len was wearing. Their bodies tight against each other. Barry knocking into the table. Lens hands pushing him up on the edge. Stepping between his legs again. The hand on the table running through Barrys hair. Tugging his head to the side. Barry arching into Lens body. Lens lips sucking a mark into his skin. Almost like an ownership mark. Barry pushing the jacket off of his shoulders. His hands running under Lens shirt. Pulling to offending garment off of him. He stared at the tattoos. Feeling himself be memorised by them.

 

“You gonna stare or are we going to at least get off once?” Len whispered into his ear. Biting on his earlobe. His hand palming the front of Barrys pants. Len sucking the one spot behind Barrys ear. 

 

Barry’s hands made quick work of Len’s jeans and boxers. Lens hands doing the same. Their mouths slammed back together. Barry wrapped his legs around Lens waist. Both moaned at their erections sliding against each others. Len kept one hand in Barrys hair. Tugging and pulling. Barry turning into putty.

 

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you, to bend you over and fuck into you, making you beg for it, beg for me, to go faster, deeper, to take you over the edge, to take you apart, leaving you whimpering, to make you mine, god Barry, you have no idea what you do to me, how much I want to take you to pieces,” Len panted into Barrys mouth.

 

Len’s hand was between them both. Flicking his thumb over the heads. Barry arched into the touch. Everything around him was getting hotter. Lens words were bouncing around his head. 

 

“I want that, all of that, fuck please, Len,” Barry begged. He needed this. The hot touches. The quick fucks. The silent words.

 

“God Barry, you have no idea how hot you are, the way you move around the town, in those skin tight jeans, fuck,” Len quickened his pace. Barry bucked into his touch. He was chasing that fall. They panted against each other.

 

“Len please,” He knew he was being needy. His hands clutched at Lens shoulders. His legs tightening around his waist. Lens hands were under his thighs. He picked Barry up. Turning to back him against the wall. Len held onto Barry. One hand on the wall. The other on his waist. His mouth on Barrys neck. Running his tongue over the red marks. Whispering filthy things into his skin. Making promises of more to come. 

 

“Come Barry,” He felt that white hot build. Coming over Len. Two more thrusts and Len was following. Both panting. Getting their breaths back under control. 

 

Len moved Barry back over to the table. Both men chucking their clothes back on. No words traded. No looks. Barry was heading to the door. He still had time to grab the artwork. Lens hand on his wrist holding him in place.

 

“Come by the office later,” Len whispered low into his ear. A faint kiss to his neck. Len was gone. So was Barry.


End file.
